WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 177 - Ancient Monster

177: Ancient Monster

177: Ancient Monster

Ben leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing, the flicker of a plan hardening into certainty.

He have his own way to get approval.

All he needed was proof.

Solid evidence that Gravenhold, with Varnak, was running illegal slave trades beneath the Ashking’s nose.

Skipping taxes.

If he brought that truth to light at public, it would strike at the Ashking’s pride, the one thing that the nobles still feared.

The Ashking himself wouldn’t move, not for something like this.

But he would send someone.

An enforcer.

An Ashborn.

And if that Ashborn happened to be Draeven, things would move even faster.

He could speak directly to the Fire Temple.

Influence the priests.

Show them that this wasn’t some petty greed, it was decay, disrespect toward their authority.

‘This could work but I shoud rebuild htis city first, and who knows if I have better plan.’

After some tough Ben realize this plan will pull even more attention at him, the question is does it good or bad?

Even after taking care the reagent he still need to preapre for revolution, or maybe could he rercuit them to hsi own fold?

“I’ve heard enough for now,” Ben said, his voice calm but edged with thought.

“Head back to the city lord’s mansion, Zarnak.

Gather every important report you can find, trade logs, patrol routes, citizen registries, anything that still exists.

I want it all on my desk by the time I arrive.”

Zarnak straightened.

“Yes, City Lord.”

Ben turned away, eyes drifting once more toward the cracked roads and quiet alleyways.

“I’ll take a walk through the city.

See it for myself.”

As Zarnak saluted and departed, Ben’s thoughts churned beneath the surface.

“So what are you thinking before, my beloved?” Elvira asked.

“This kingdom’s held together by fear alone.

Break that fear, and the rest crumbles.

Look at the Ashborn, Draeven and the rest, how many of them are truly loyal to the cause?”

“That’s true.

So you plan to assassinate the Ashking?”

“No,” Ben said, eyes narrowing.

“We don’t know how strong that old monster really is.

And the more I learn, the warier I become.

Killing him might be off the table, for us.

But for the Templar?

I doubt it’d be much of a problem.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“Don’t you find it suspicious?” Ben leaned forward.

“Maybe the Nephirid were left here on purpose.

Let them fester in the depths, and one day they rise, spread chaos up top, and then the Templar swoop in, playing the hero.”

“Playing a hero?” Elvira narrowed her eyes.

Her mind ran through possibilities.

“That’s very possible… but why would they bother pretending to be heroes?”

“You’ve never seen what happens in the end, have you?”

“No.

I always regressed before it got that far.”

“No wonder you still hate them so much,” Ben muttered.

If Elvira had seen the ending, seen them beaten, maybe her hatred for the Nephirid would’ve dulled.

To Ben, they were just tools of the Crusaders.

That’s what made the question stick in his mind, why keep the Nephirid here at all?

And more importantly, if they are tools… there must be a method to control them.

Ben glanced sideways.

“You ever come across anything… specific?

A relic, a rule, anything that might act some kind of control for the Nephirid?”

Elvira’s expression turned thoughtful.

“There’s a legend,” she said slowly.

“About a seal.

Said to be put into the Ashking’s very soul, it suppresses the effect of the Primordial Flame.”

Ben frowned.

“The Flame that the Fire Temple draws their authority from?”

She nodded.

“Exactly.

Most Nephirid are bound to it.

That’s what fuels their strength, and limits them.

Do you forget draeven told us how he become ashborn after getting baptized by the primoridal flame.”

Ben crossed his arms.

“If that’s true, then it make sense.

The moment the seal loosen, with ashking personality he won’t waste any time to invade the upper layer.”

“There’s no proof of its source,” Elvira added.

“But there are many rumour and evidence pointing at this.

So I’m sure of it.”

A pause stretched, then Elvira asked, “How strong do you think he is, compared to the Magus?”

Ben’s lips thinned.

“Strong.

Even now, at least ten times stronger.”

He remembered catching a glimpse of the Ashking from a distance once, but even then, the pressure had been unbearable.

He narrowed his eyes and muttered, “System, why don’t you give us that evaluation again.”

With his call, pure white energy come out from Ben’s body it than coalaesce into the small knight.

His sword rested casually over his shoulder, but his tone was anything but casual.

“You want to hear it again?” he said, eyes glowing faintly.

“Fine.

Current estimate, if you fought the Ashking right now, with all the power you possess, even using the pickaxe at full capacity and with my full support…”

He paused.

“You still wouldn’t win.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“That bad?”

“It’s not a matter of bad.

It’s a matter of scale.

That ancient monster’s on the same level.

The Magus was a high-level threat, yes.

But the Ashking is a cornerstone of the nephirid.

His presence alone warps the flow of aether..”

Elvira frowned, her arms crossed.

“So what, we run?”

The knight shook his head firmly.

“No.

You practice!”

His aura shifted sharply.

One moment he was the calm advisor, the next he was radiating the oppressive presence of a hardened drill sergeant.

Ben’s brow twitched the moment he felt it.

“Drop down!

Push-ups, now!

Move like you mean it, soldier!” the knight barked, pointing his glowing sword at Ben’s chest.

Ben sighed heavily.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

From the side, Elvira covered her mouth, failing to hold back a small laugh.

“Don’t make me repeat myself!” the knight snapped, his voice echoing through the tunnel like a whipcrack.

Muttering under his breath about “damn system updates” and “slave drivers,” Ben reluctantly dropped to the ground and started his training, each push-up pressing a small cloud of dust from the mossy floor.

Elvira leaned casually against the wall, smiling brightly.

“Good luck, my beloved.

I’ll cheer you on.”

Ben shot her a dark look mid-pushup.

“Not helping.”

The knight only smirked, stepping back like a proud instructor watching a hopeless recruit suffer through basic training.

“First step to defeating ancient monster, soldier…

is breaking that lazy attitude of yours!”

After sometime, The knight’s voice rang out again.

“Enough warm-up.

Get up!

Now take out that your pickaxe.”

Ben pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, dusted off his hands, and summoned the pickaxe from his storage ring.

The moment it landed in his grip, the knight’s eyes narrowed.

“Posture,” he barked.

“You’re holding it like a sledgehammer, not a precision weapon.

Adjust your stance.

Feet shoulder-width.

Balance your weight.

You’re not digging for ore, you’re carving through fate.”

Ben grumbled, shifting his grip and planting his feet as instructed.

“Better,” the knight muttered, circling him like a hawk.

“Now, channel mana into it.

Steady.

Not all at once, control the flow.” freēwēbnovel.com

Ben closed his eyes, focusing as threads of mana ran down his arms, into the handle.

The edge of the pickaxe began to glow faintly.

The knight watched for all of two seconds before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Ben opened one eye.

“What now?”

“Your mana control is shit,” the knight said bluntly, jabbing his sword into the ground.

“You’re either too loose or choking the flow.

No wonder your attacks fluctuate like a drunk trying to cast magic blindfolded.”

Ben clenched his jaw.

“Then show me how it’s done.”

“I am showing you,” the knight snapped.

“You just keep failing to learn!”

From the wall, Elvira giggled again.

“This is strangely satisfying.”

Ben didn’t respond.

His eyes were locked on the glowing edge of the pickaxe, and this time, he adjusted his breathing, slowed the flow.

He wasn’t about to let a floating tin can out-insult him and be right about it.

The knight crossed his arms.

“There.

Now hold it.

Feel the difference?”

Ben grunted, the mana stream smoothing out along the pickaxe shaft, forming a consistent hum.

The glow intensified, no longer flickering, but pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

He could feel it now, it’s like the pickaxe were part of him.

“That’s more like it,” the knight said, circling him again.

“The pickaxe is an extension of your will, not a mere tools.”

Ben adjusted his stance again, slashing the pickaxe once through the air.

The arc it carved shimmered faintly.

“Good,” the knight said at last.

“Now again.

This time with movement.

Keep the flow even, slash, breathe.”

Ben moved.

Step.

Swing.

Twist.

Slam.

The cavern floor cracked beneath the weight of the blow, but the energy remained focused.

“Better,” the knight nodded.

“At this rate, you will be able to defeat the ashking in ten years.”

Ben shot him a glare.

His lips twitched.

Elvira leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching with a small smirk.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“I think he’s strong enough now..”